


The Amaranth & The Rose

by merryfortune



Series: Zinefic [3]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V
Genre: Aesop's Fables - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tales, Discussion of Mortality, F/F, prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:16:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26132533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merryfortune/pseuds/merryfortune
Summary: In the fortune teller’s garden, two flower spirits discuss their mortality.
Relationships: Hiiragi Yuzu/Naname Mikiyo
Series: Zinefic [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2157015
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	The Amaranth & The Rose

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Miracle Illusions by @arcvzine
> 
> https://twitter.com/arcvzine/status/1297646326671319040

In amongst the dulcet flowers, in a certain garden, in a special place, there was magic in the trimmed and prim thicket. This garden belonged to a small and quaint house and in turned, belonged to a fortune teller, tiny but dear. She frequently tended to this garden and was often seen sitting amongst the petal soft colours with tea and her crystal apple which she interpreted omens through. Perhaps that’s why, this garden often attracted more than just birds and bees to its spectacular perimeter.

Despite the beauty of this well-groomed little paradise, away from the city and untouched by its smog, it was such sweet sorrow to be a plant in this darling garden. Every morning, the sun would rise and every evening the sun would fall. Opening and closing; blooming and budding but it was all for naught for nothing lasts forever. Or at least that was how the young rose, pink as the sunrise, felt.

Inhabited by a spirit, a pixie girl, blonde and fair, named Mikiyo who often worried what would become of herself when the rose her soul was attached to could bloom no more and wilt and fall. The blossom of her host, brown and bruised, on the ground and in the cutting blades of grass, a soft head to be discarded and nothing more for there was no purpose for a rose if that rose was not beautiful.

The mere thought of it harrows Mikiyo as she was universally considered the most beautiful rose in this garden. She was as pastel as the early morning; the eyes of passing people were indisputably captivated by her and her alone. Butterflies were infatuated with her, drinking of her nectar and she was more than happy to indulge them and their brilliant wings. The scent of her roses was magnificent; the greatest perfume which permeated the whole of the garden. She was truly the starlet amongst them all and yet, she held such a deep-seated worry for tomorrow which drenched all her delicate soul. Mikiyo adored the sun, stars, and moon but what happens then?

Her ponderings, so dour and unbecoming of a Rose, dulled the whole of the bush she belonged to.

But, fortunately, she was not alone. She was not the sole spirit of this garden and nor was she the only one who yearned for something more than what she had or otherwise pondered big and important questions. Mikiyo was blessed to have a companion such as the amaranth tree which resided beside her, cuddling her with distant shadows and providing some respite from her own thoughts – as well as from the wind and other hazards which might just threaten her precious little head as well.

The name of the spirit which inhabited the amaranth tree was, confusingly, Yuzu. Her name was citric, but her face and demeanour were anything but. The amaranth tree was tall and endowed with splendour; low, almost weeping flowers blossomed from it in hues of placid burgundy. The spirit which resided within it had a cheerful disposition and a smile from ear to ear. She was in possession of a blessed voice and could sometimes be coaxed into singing a song for those would hear but in her own humbleness, she often thought her voice to be too throaty to sound good.

Mikiyo adored it. And thus, it was in that melodic voice, that Mikiyo sought Yuzu’s counsel.

She reached out from across the garden, a few spaces to a human but to folk as tiny and magical as they, it was quite the ravine. Nonetheless, they met. A breeze, pale and cool, flitted between them, ruffling their petals before Mikiyo brought her thoughts to her mouth. Yet, she could not bear herself to bring upon such miserable thoughts onto the world. Yuzu sensed this.

With a warm smile, “What a lovely flower is the Rose, a favourite amongst all: boys, girls, children, and adults all alike. I’ll be honest Mikiyo, I envy you your beauty and your perfume, too.” Yuzu sheepishly confessed.

“I never grow sick of compliments.” Mikiyo was flatly honest but it made her expression quiver. Her brows, blonde and dainty, furrowed. “I am all those things and more, dear Amaranth, but I’m scared. One day I shall bloom but it shall be brief. And that is assuming that between now and that curt day, I am not plucked from my stem. Either way, I will wilt and wither and eventually die.” Mikiyo’s eyes watered. “But, you, Yuzu, you are immortal, and your beauty does not fade, but blooms for ever in renewed youth. I envy that…”

Yuzu glanced at her friend. Her furrowed brow and watery eyes had given way to suppressed tears. They were crystalline upon her scantly pink cheeks. The sight of which broke Yuzu’s heart. She tried to reach out but her own arm, her own hand, twitched and she felt herself doubt her ability to console her dear friend. And so, she retreated into herself.

“We all have our fates.” Yuzu told Mikiyo; her voice was melancholic. “I suffer similarly. Just as you fear the day you wither; I fear it as well. I shall remain and I will have to watch your blossoms disappear, be it in the wind or by human hand… My youth and immortality, it comes priced as well. I think I would much rather live finitely than to outlive all my friends, but these are our fates.”

Mikiyo wept upon hearing that. Yuzu winced. She chastised herself for further hurting her friend.

“But there is some comfort that I foresee, no matter the loneliness or eternity.” Yuzu continued even though her own voice was breaking.

Mikiyo, who was bawling into her hands, looked up. She blinked. Those blue eyes looked lost like the sky after a terrible storm. Her cheeks were slick, and Yuzu smiled unto her. Her heart fluttered.

“I will remember you.” Yuzu said.

Her voice was a whimper at first. It came from a grimace, but it also came from the deepest part of her heart. Mikiyo noticed that.

“I will remember you when you are gone. I will remember you when you were here. I will remember you as you are now and as you were yesterday and tomorrow and next week. I love you, Mikiyo. So long as I remember you, you could perish sometime soon or sometime later, but you will always remain,” Yuzu said and she placed her hand on her heart, “right here, in my heart. My dear companion who is vain and troublesome,” Mikiyo audibly pouted to Yuzu’s amusement, “but charming and delightful nonetheless.”

“That’s more like it.” Mikiyo proudly hummed upon hearing that. Her smile was like a sunbeam as she put her hands on her hips.

Being able to bear witness to such a delightful grin made Yuzu happy though, somewhere in her heart, she had already forsaken such a joyful expression of Mikiyo’s. After all, it was borne of such mournful and miserable thoughts and conversations. But she truly did mean her word.

And so, comforted by the Amaranth’s word, the Rose found comfort in her own salient fate. There was pity and melancholy to it, but it was hers alone, with its own issues and paradoxes. She was no longer certain if she ought to envy Yuzu at all. She, herself, looking into her own grim future just the same as Mikiyo and Mikiyo was not certain if she would accept that as gracefully as Yuzu who had been here long before her and be here long after.

Still, the wind ruffled their petals and their flowers. The sun smiled on them and in their conversation, it had grown cloudy without their knowledge, but even the shadows drifted elsewhere into the world. The door to the cottage banged and the fortune teller pranced through with a tray of biscuits and tea with her bag of tarot cards in tow as well. It seemed that all would be well in the garden and remain so.

Perhaps even, until the Roses blossoms fall, and the Amaranth tree can no longer in take nutrients and until there was no one to remember there being fairylike spirits in this garden to have begun with. But, until such a day came, Mikiyo would be remembered by – be cherished by – Yuzu as she was.


End file.
